


Montezuma's Revenge

by kronette



Category: Highlander: The Series
Genre: Gen, Halloween, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-31
Updated: 2012-12-31
Packaged: 2017-11-23 01:26:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/616544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kronette/pseuds/kronette
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequel to <a href="archiveofourown.org/works/616532">The Day After</a>. It's payback time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Montezuma's Revenge

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to Debbi O. and Attie L. for beta-ing this for me at the last minute. Originally posted in 1997 under my other pseud, Shelley Wright.

It was a few days before Halloween, and Duncan MacLeod was getting the loft ready for his party. Richie and Amanda were supposed to be helping him, but so far, they had spent more time helping themselves to his refrigerator contents. Light scolding had coerced Richie to help, but nothing would sway Amanda. She was seated firmly on the couch, watching them hang decorations.

Richie handed MacLeod a plastic skeleton, which he hung from the ceiling. "I don't think it's a good idea, Amanda," was Duncan's answer to her suggestion.

"But it's been over nine months! Surely he's forgotten all about it by now," Amanda dismissed his concerns with a wave of her hand.

Richie Ryan shook his head as he passed another skeleton to Duncan. "No way, Amanda. I wouldn't risk it."

Amanda got up from the couch and started to pace. "It wasn't that bad. And he hasn't mentioned it since."

"Ever stop to think he might be plotting revenge?" MacLeod advised as he tossed the string onto the countertop and stepped down from the ladder.

Amanda let out a small snort of dismissive laughter. "He'd never do that."

"Right," Richie whispered under his breath.

MacLeod walked over to Amanda and rubbed her back. "Does it really mean that much to you?"

"I think it would mean a lot to  _him_ ," she stressed. "Besides, what's the worst that can happen? We get a nasty hangover that's gone in a few hours anyway."

MacLeod looked down into her perfect pout and sighed. "All right," he relented.

"Great!" Amanda gave MacLeod's cheek a quick peck and swept her coat off the kitchen island. "And you can invite him," she added as she entered the lift and pulled down the cage.

"I can do what?" MacLeod questioned as he started to walk to the lift.

She blew him a kiss. "I have a few things to pick up for the party, then I'll be back later." She punched the button. "Bye!"

"Amanda!" MacLeod yelled after her, but the lift was gone and her Buzz was fading. He sighed.

"Amanda strikes again," Richie crossed his arms and shook his head. "You really think he'll behave himself?"

"I don't know why he wouldn't." MacLeod laughed lightly. "I'm sure he's forgotten all about it by now. I would have. And I'm going to invite him right now." He picked up the phone and dialed Methos' number. "Hi, Methos."

"MacLeod," Methos' voice was cheerful over the line. "What brings this unexpected pleasure?"

"I wanted to invite you to my Halloween Party. Well, All Hallow's Eve," he corrected automatically.

"That's all right, Highlander," Methos admonished lightly. "I can handle new terms for old ceremonies. I take it you're going to have us dress in silly costumes and play even sillier games?"

MacLeod smiled. "Something like that. But yes, a costume will be required...and," he cut off Methos' protest, "I will  _not_ accept 'immortal' or 'watcher' as a costume."

There was a moment of silence on the other end, then MacLeod heard Methos sigh. "Fine." His voice was filled with resignation. "I'll scare up something to wear. Need me to bring anything?"

"No," MacLeod snapped too quickly. He still had the aftertaste of the awful brew Methos had brought to the New Year's party. Realizing how his reply must have sounded, he laughed lightly. "What I mean is, I'm taking care of everything. You're a guest. Oh, and you're welcome to bring someone, if you like."

"Okay, MacLeod," Methos answered warily. "Any particular time? I'm assuming this is on the thirty-first?"

"Yes, and about six would be good. You'll be there?"

"I'll be there," Methos promised, then hung up.

Richie shook his head with a grin. "You're making a mistake, Mac."

"It'll all work out, Rich. Trust me." MacLeod grinned, suddenly feeling pleased with himself. He was positive Methos had forgotten all about New Year's.

~~~~~

All Hallow's Eve

MacLeod set out another bowl of chips, then surveyed the table. Old recipes mingled with some new dishes, with a sprinkling of traditional Halloween fare throughout. Candied apples, pumpkin pie, cider and of course, cold beer were plentiful. "All set," he murmured to himself. He smoothed down his tuxedo shirt and adjusted the cape on his Phantom of the Opera costume. He glanced to the clock, then called to the bedroom, "Richie, you've been in there an hour already! Come on out and let me see."

"Just a second," the young Immortal answered.

MacLeod felt two buzzes and barely glanced up at the knock on the door.

"MacLeod?" Methos' voice called.

"Yeah, come on in. Is that Amanda with you?" MacLeod asked as he placed some napkins on the table.

"You could say that," Methos answered smugly.

MacLeod's jaw fell open as he turned to greet his guests. "Methos?" he questioned. " _Amanda_?"

Methos' hair was slicked back, and looked to contain about a pound of grease. Dark sunglasses hid his eyes, and a toothpick dangled from his lips. A thick layer of gold chains hung around his neck. His silk shirt was open to his waist, tucked into dark gray slacks. He brushed a non-existent piece of lint off the matching jacket as he stepped into the room. A wide, white patent leather belt and matching shoes completed the ensemble. He looked every bit the sleazy pimp.

Amanda was plastered to Methos' side, snapping her gum. Her outfit consisted of a tank top about five sizes too small, a skirt of equal length, red high heels, and a curly blonde wig which hung well past her shoulders. She had a large bag in one hand, and MacLeod was afraid to ask what it held. She put her free hand on one barely-covered hip and studied his crotch openly. He felt himself blush, unbelievably.

Methos removed the toothpick dangling from his teeth and said, "Hiya, Mac." Even his voice sounded oily.

"What're you supposed to be?" MacLeod choked out.

Methos removed his sunglasses and tucked them into his shirt pocket. He adjusted his jacket collar and snaked his arm around Mac's shoulders. MacLeod fought down the urge to shudder at the smarmy feel of Methos' words. "I'm in fulfillment, MacLeod. Personal fulfillment, if you know what I mean." He chuckled and dug a finger into MacLeod's ribs.

MacLeod felt revulsion at the leer Methos shot him. He dragged his eyes to Amanda and asked weakly, "And wh- ?"

He didn't even get the question finished. Methos sidled over to Amanda and yanked her body tight against his. "This here's Angel," Methos explained. "My goil."

"Your  _what_?" MacLeod had to ask. He couldn't be sure he had heard Methos right.

Methos rolled his eyes. " _Girl_ , MacLeod. I'm trying to stay in character here."

"Oh, uh, sorry," MacLeod offered lamely. There was still a hint of disbelief as he greeted the female Immortal. "Hi, Angel."

"Pleased to make your acquaintance," Amanda answered with a snap of her gum.

"Can I talk to you for a second,  _Angel_?" Without waiting for an answer, MacLeod extracted her from Methos' clutches and pulled her aside. "Amanda, I thought you were going to be  _my_ date," he hissed in her ear.

"Duncan, you never  _asked_. What's a girl supposed to think?" She pouted prettily. "Methos was the only one who invited me, so here I am."

"You  _did_ say I could bring a date, MacLeod," Methos reminded Duncan as he passed by on the way to the kitchen. Amanda handed him the bag. "I brought some of my home brew again," he called as he stashed it in the refrigerator. He returned with one of the beers in hand. He handed a glass of cider to Amanda, who accepted it with a quick kiss. "Thanks, sugah."

The lift rattled, and Duncan was distracted by the arrival of Joe Dawson.

"Hey, all! Great costume, Mac," Joe complimented their host.

Mac swept up his cape with a flourish and bowed deeply. "Thank you, kind sir."

"Hi, Joe - what are you supposed to be?" Methos asked with a perplexed frown.

"I was supposed to be Quasimodo...but the store ran out of costumes. So, I decided the old tried-and-true always works." Joe grinned and touched his mouse ears. "So, whaddaya think? Do I still look young enough to be a Mouseketeer?"

"You look adorable, Joseph," Amanda purred as she sauntered over to him and kissed his painted nose.

Joe's eyes ran appreciatively down Amanda's figure, and he let out a low whistle. "Kind of a daring outfit, isn't it?"

"I live to be dangerous," she whispered in his ear.

"Hey now, hands off the merchandise," Methos snarled good- naturedly as he plucked Amanda from Joe's arms. "No free samples."

"Did someone call for a Musketeer? All for one, and one for all!" Richie announced as he bounded into the room. He had obviously been spending too much time watching A&E. A deep blue tunic was pulled over his lacy shirt, and an epee was tucked carefully into his belt. He removed his plumed hat and bowed deeply to Amanda. "M'lady."

Methos and Joe both snorted. Duncan rolled his eyes. She glared at them, then turned back to Richie. She smiled sweetly at him and held out her hand. "At your service, m'lord."

Richie bent down to kiss her hand, but she was pulled out of his startled grasp. Richie's eyes flew up to meet Methos' hard gaze.

"Uh-ah-ah! Payment up front, kid," Methos threatened with a glare.

Richie swallowed hard. " _Methos_?" he questioned.

"The one and only," Methos replied with a toothy grin. "Ya wanna touch, ya gotta pay first. Got it?"

"Uh, got it," Richie stammered. "Wow, you're good."

"Thanks Richie." Methos let a genuine smile tease his lips, and Richie relaxed.

"Too good if you ask me," MacLeod interjected as he passed out cups of cider to everyone. "Food's ready if you're hungry. Just help yourself."

"Yes," Richie whispered under his breath and headed to the table. They all settled down and hit the food. They just about gorged themselves, then retired to the couches.

They were scattered pretty lazily around the living room as they shared ghost stories. Despite her earlier attitude, Amanda was now snuggled firmly at Duncan's side as they listened to Joe's description of an old house he had lived in. Methos went last with his story, which had everyone wrapping their arms around themselves for warmth.

"Remind me to never ask you to tell me another ghost story," Dawson shivered.

"I used to be an orator in Rome. It's all in the voice you use," Methos explained modestly.

"Sure," MacLeod answered a bit faintly. "I'm about done with stories for now. Anyone up for games?"

"Games?" Methos echoed warily.

"C'mon, Methos. Bobbing for apples-"

"You don't have a tub full of water," Methos reasoned.

MacLeod was determined. "I Never." Methos just raised an eyebrow. "Right. What would be the point?" Duncan conceded. He thought a second, then suggested, "Truth or Dare?"

Methos' eyebrow arched higher. "You sure you want to play that with me, MacLeod?"

"Fine! Then you pick something," MacLeod growled quietly.

"I have a much better idea," Richie interrupted before tempers started to flare. "I brought some movies; let's watch them. Freddy, anyone?"

"Who's Freddy?" Methos asked.

"Ask, and ye shall get, or however that saying goes," Richie declared. He broke out his collection of horror movies, and they grossed their way through some of the worst drek Hollywood had dared to put out.

"Come on, you expect me to believe those were really entrails?" Methos scoffed.

Joe looked a bit peaked. "Sure looked real to me."

"No way, Joe.  _That_ was plastic tubing. Entrails are much softer and more flexible. And definitely not that pretty."

"I think I'm going to get more punch," Joe said weakly.

"I'll get it for you," Methos offered as he leaned over and took Joe's cup. "I need another beer, anyway. Anyone else while I'm up?"

A bloodcurdling shriek emanated from the television, and Methos chuckled. "A simple no would have sufficed."

Duncan smiled and handed Methos his cup. "Thanks," he whispered. Amanda's eyes were glued to the screen, but she absently held her cup aloft, and Methos took it with a smirk.

"Thanks, Methos," she murmured, then gasped and buried her head in MacLeod's shoulder.

Methos turned back to the television in time to see the heroine disemboweled. "Oh, _very_ realistic," he hissed sarcastically.

"Hey Methos, could you bring me some more cider? This stuff is really good, Mac," Richie commented.

Methos accepted the last cup, then went to fill the requests.

"It is good," Amanda whispered as she kissed MacLeod lightly. She rubbed at his chest as she asked, "You're not really mad at me for coming with Methos, are you?"

"No. I was just surprised, is all. I hadn't expected him to invite anyone, let alone you," he whispered.

"That's not very nice," she whispered furiously back.

"He doesn't seem the date type," MacLeod whispered back defensively.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Amanda hissed.

"SHHHH," Richie snapped. "I am  _trying_ to watch a movie here."

"It's not like you haven't seen this a dozen times already," MacLeod admonished him.

"Well, _I_ haven't seen it," Methos commented dryly as he passed out the drinks. "Now, is that the zombie who ate that girl's liver, or the one who ripped out the guy's eyeballs?"

"Liver-eating zombie. See? You can still see a bit of bile hanging off his blood-stained teeth."

"Gotcha."

Duncan, Amanda and Joe shivered.

~~~~~~~~~~

It was well into three o'clock when the moviefest was over.

"I never want to see another horror movie," Duncan moaned.

"I thought they were pretty good," Amanda shrugged.

"I could have done without the cheesy sound effects, but some of the stories were interesting," Methos observed.

Duncan glared at Amanda, then Methos.

Methos shot MacLeod an indignant look. "What? I  _like_ horror movies, okay?"

"Have some fun, Duncan," Amanda teased him.

Richie popped the tape out and slid it back into its case. "Yeah, loosen up, Mac. Being scared is the  _point_ of Halloween. That, and going trick-or-treating."

"Oh, I beg to differ, Young One," Methos drawled as he settled back against the couch. "Halloween didn't start off being about getting stuffed with candy."

"It's too  _late_ for a history lesson, Methos," Duncan groaned.

"I could tell you a story about one of the Salem witches," Amanda piped up, sharing a conspiratorial grin with Methos.

"No. Uh-uh. You two are  _not_ going to start the history lessons. I refuse to listen!" Richie protested. He covered his ears and started humming loudly.

The three older Immortals started to laugh. "Okay, Rich, we promise. No history lesson," Methos promised. "I do have a few ghost stories I haven't told in a long time, though."

Richie stopped humming and perked up at that. "Real ghosts?"

"Well, more like the dead coming back to life," Methos replied.

"Oh, that's nothing," Richie scoffed. "We do it all the time! What's scary about that?"

"You'd be surprised," Methos commented lightly.

Joe yawned loudly from his place on the couch. His eyes were heavy as he slurred, "I don' know about the rest of you, but _I_ have to get up at a decent hour tomorrow - like noonish. I gotta go."

"Just stay here, Joe. I've got couch space," Duncan offered.

"Me, on this couch? Uh-uh. I value my life."

"What's wrong with it?" Methos asked as he did a nose-dive onto the other leather couch. "It's comfy."

"Like hell! Last time I slept here, I couldn't move for two days. Nope, I want my own bed, thank you very much." Even as he protested, Joe's eyelids drooped and his head fell back onto the couch.

"Your loss," Methos murmured as his eyes drifted closed. Almost immediately, soft snores emanated from the oldest Immortal.

"I think you just got a couch-crasher, Mac," Richie observed.

"You're just mad because he beat you to it," Duncan teased.

Richie did his best to look offended. "That's besides the point. I mean, look at him. Sprawled out like he owns it or something."

Amanda's eyes twinkled with mischief. "Yes, look at him, all sprawled out."

"Amanda," MacLeod warned. "What's going on inside that pretty little head of yours?"

"Oh, nothing," she answered breezily. "But doesn't he look just good enough to eat?"

"You've had enough candy for one night," MacLeod growled as he pulled Amanda into his arms and kissed her soundly.

"But I want something sweet," she pouted.

"I think this is my cue to leave," Richie laughed as he started gathering his scattered tapes.

Duncan extracted himself from Amanda's arms. "I'm sorry, Rich. You don't have to go. We can wait."

"We can?" Amanda hissed. MacLeod's elbow found her ribs "Oh! We can." She nodded her head vigorously. "Really."

Richie eyed them both suspiciously. "Are you sure? Cuz I do have one other movie that I know you're gonna love. 'Mummy Man Takes Manhattan'."

Amanda and MacLeod exchanged 'give me strength' looks and settled next to Richie for the movie.

~~~~~~~~

With a small groan, Methos rolled over and nearly fell off the narrow couch. He cursed in three languages as his hand hit the floor to brace himself. He gingerly hauled himself upright, then peered into the semi-darkness around him. The television was flickering, but no other lights were turned on. MacLeod and Amanda were curled up together against the other couch. Despite his earlier protests, Joe was lying on the couch, snoring softly. Methos wasn't kidding when he said the couches were comfortable; but he had purposely picked the softer one; the harder one would have helped to support Joe's back. His eyes drifted to Richie asleep in the chair, limbs sprawled. He checked the clock; not even 6am yet. Perfect. He got quietly to his feet and retrieved his shoes. He stepped behind the other couch and shook Joe gently.

"Joe," he hissed.

"Mmph," came the answer.

"Joe," he hissed more urgently. He risked shaking him a bit harder, and Joe's eyes flew open. He leaned over the mortal and put his fingers to Joe's lips. "Quiet. We have to get you home."

Joe nodded, then struggled to sit up. Methos helped him around the two Immortals, then escorted him to the door.

"Why'd we have to leave so early?" Joe yawned.

"Because this is a dream, Joe. You're actually in your nice, comfortable bed," Methos explained.

"Why're you here then?"

"Um... I'm your spirit guide. I'm taking you back from dreamland. Here we go." Methos pulled open the door and ushered Joe outside, closing it carefully behind him. He didn't want to wake the sleeping beauties just yet. "I'll bring you a couple of blondes later, okay?"

"Want a brunette. Sings the blues."

"All right, I'll find a blues-singing brunette. Geez, Joe, can't you let your dreams make up your woman?"

"Nope," Joe grinned. "I likes 'em that way."

Methos sighed and helped Joe out to his car.

~~~~~

Methos placed the bags on the counter with a loud thump. He retrieved a beer from one bag and lounged against the wall. He had changed from his costume into baggy jeans and a sweatshirt, but he still felt slimy, somehow. He had already burned the shoes and belt, and was planning to return the necklaces next week. It had taken three washings to get all the grease out of his hair, but it still felt oily to him. His eyes took in the scene before him, and he felt a wicked smile at his lips. "Good morning," he sing-songed to the room.

The room answered in dead silence. Not even his buzz had woken the three sleeping Immortals.

"Come on, up and at-'em! Isn't that the saying? The sun is shining, it's a nice, brisk day outside . . ." As he talked, he flicked up the window shades. The warm sunlight raced across the floor, highlighting the three bodies. They still didn't move.

He continued talking anyway. "In case you haven't guessed, I drugged that last round of cider," he leered. "Oh, I made sure Joe didn't drink any of it; after all, it might have killed him. But as for the rest of you . . ." he leaned down and lifted MacLeod's head up. "It's payback time," he hissed as his grin grew wider. He let MacLeod's head fall back with a dull thud, confident the Immortal wouldn't wake up. He didn't fully, but some of the dredges of sleep were leaving him. He heard Richie stir on the chair, but Amanda was still out cold.

Methos straightened and walked back into the kitchen, rattling the paper bags he had brought. He removed items and put them away as he kept up his monologue. "For starters, I have removed every coffee bean from this establishment. Next, I'm willing to prepare a lovely breakfast of eggs with hollandaise, lox and cheese, whatever the hell these are," he held up a string of sausage links, "and to top it off, some freshly squeezed grapefruit juice. Any takers?"

Soft groans answered him from MacLeod and Richie.

Almost there. He checked his watch; yep, about nine hours after ingestion, the stuff usually wore off. It was about hour ten now. "No? Maybe you're not in the mood for breakfast. I can see how that might be possible, as it's well past noon. Lunch, perhaps? I was thinking of a seafood medley, myself. Oysters on the half-shell, lobster tail, cracked crab with butter sauce . . ."

Richie was the first one on his feet, making the mad dash to the bathroom. Methos looked after him and clucked his tongue. "I guess he's just not mature enough for cultured food."

He turned his gaze back to the sleeping lovers. "One down, two to go," Methos whispered to himself. He clapped his hands together, and the sound echoed like a shot in the silent loft. "Hey, I've got a great idea. The amusement park is only open for a few more weeks; let's head down there. Cotton candy, popcorn, taffy, plus all those great roller coaster rides! I haven't tried the one that hangs you upside-down yet. You think it makes your insides bunch up around your throat?" he asked innocently.

It was Duncan's turn to stumble to his feet with a choking noise, then rush into the other bathroom. He winced in sympathy and hoped MacLeod had good plumbing. Well, not too much sympathy.

The one Immortal left was the one Methos wanted to get worse of all. With a wicked twinkle in his eyes, he carried the still-unconscious Amanda into MacLeod's bedroom and tucked her into bed. He pulled off her top, then carefully worked her skirt down her legs. It would have been hard without seeing, but he'd had  _lots_ of practice in dark rooms. He stripped to his boxers and laid down beside her. He started caressing her face and kissing her lightly.

"Amanda. Amanda," he called softly. He continued stroking her skin until her eyelids fluttered.

"Amanda," he whispered one more time. Then he leaned down and kissed her deeply. She started, then pushed up to meet him, wrapping her arms around his neck and holding him close.

"Mmm, MacLeod," she purred.

"Good morning," he whispered.

"Methos!??" she squealed as she woke fully.

He leaned over and planted a kiss on her shoulder. "Last night was wonderful."

She stared at him frantic-eyed, then pushed him back. "Last night?? I don't know what you think we did, but we  _didn't_. We just  _didn't_."

He gave her his best wounded look. "How can you say that? Last night was very special to me. I thought you felt it too. We connected, Amanda."

Amanda shoved him complete off of her. "No, we did  _not_." She started to scramble out of bed when she noticed her state of undress. She squealed again and pulled the comforter up around her neck. "No, no, no! I could _not_ have slept with you," she wailed.

Correction;  _now_ he gave her his best wounded look. "Why not? Is the thought that horrible?" he asked huskily.

"Yes! No!" She groaned. "I can't believe this!"

He chuckled and purred, "Believe it," as he tugged gently at the comforter. "C'mon, sweetheart. Let's spend the day in bed..."

She slapped at his hand and held the comforter tighter. "Don't touch me! Just don't, okay? I have to think about this."

"What's there to think about? Just feel it..."

Her hand smacked across his face, leaving a red mark. "Feel that," she snapped. She reached for her clothes and struggled into them. "I've got to think. I have to think what to tell MacLeod." She whirled on him and glared threateningly. "Don't you  _dare_ breathe a word of this to  _anyone_ , do you understand me, Methos? Do you?"

He rubbed absently at his cheek, which still stung from the force of her blow. He cast his eyes downward and sighed. "If that's what you really want, Amanda. I won't say a word. But don't ask me to forget what happened." He looked up into her eyes and whispered, "I could never do that."

She turned pale, then a bit green. "Oh - uh - shit!" She grabbed her scattered belongings and tore out of the loft.

With a self-satisfied smirk, Methos settled back into the bed. As he heard the bathroom door open, he slumped down under the covers, until only part of his head was visible. MacLeod stumbled out, barely awake. He had stripped off most of his costume, leaving his chest bare. Perfect. Methos remained still, though his eyes followed MacLeod's movements, willing him to the bed.

As if he heard his silent command, MacLeod fell heavily onto the bed with his back to Methos. Even more perfect. He waited until MacLeod's soft snores began, then he stroked MacLeod's arm.

"Duncan," he whispered. The younger Immortal snuffled, but didn't waken. He was close, though. Methos slid his arm around MacLeod's chest and hugged him tight. "Duncan."

MacLeod grumbled something, then caught Methos' hands and held them tighter against his chest.

"Good morning, lover," Methos whispered as he felt MacLeod's breathing change. He was almost awake.

MacLeod snuggled his head deeper into the pillow and murmured, "G'morning, Methos." Seconds ticked by while Methos waited. He shifted his hands on MacLeod's bare chest, tickling him. MacLeod squirmed and giggled softly. "Don't do that," he protested mildly.

Methos nuzzled at the back of MacLeod's neck, taking a small nip out of his skin. "Wake up, sleepy-head."

"Och, can't even sleep in my own-" MacLeod's good-natured jibe died on his lips as realization set in. "Methos?" he whispered hoarsely.

"Hmm?" Methos replied. He quickly schooled his face as MacLeod turned to stare incredulously at him.

" _Methos_?" he repeated.

Methos let his sleepy gaze wander down MacLeod's chest. "What, nothing for the morning after? Not even a kiss?" he murmured with a smile.

"METHOS!" MacLeod's voice was filled with undignified outrage. He pulled back, out of Methos' reach. "Don't touch me."

"That's not what you said last night," Methos purred.

" _METHOS_!" Duncan wailed in anguish. He jumped out of bed and snatched the comforter, holding it up against his chest like a shield.

Methos propped his head up on his hand as he studied the Highlander. "What, MacLeod? Didn't you enjoy yourself? It sure sounded like you did to me." He smirked. "Unless you  _normally_ whimper when you're having a bad time."

"Stop saying that, Methos. This cannot be happening. This did not happen!" he pointed to the bed and glared at the older Immortal.

Methos rolled onto his back, folded his hands behind his head, and let his gaze rake MacLeod from head to toe. "Suit yourself, but don't expect me to believe it."

Richie chose that particular moment to stumble out of the other bathroom, holding onto the door frame for dear life. "Ooh, my head," he grumbled, then stood stock-still. His gaze flicked from Methos, stretched out on the bed with nothing on but his boxers, to MacLeod, clutching the comforter. Back and forth, back and forth.

"Richie, it's not what it looks like," MacLeod started to explain.

"Yes," Methos interjected, "MacLeod's supposed to be here with me." He patted the bed beside him for emphasis, and shot MacLeod a coy look.

Richie's jaw dropped open. "You - you two - you..."

Methos swung his legs off the bed, stood, and walked over to Richie. He came up beside the redhead and whispered, "Don't you mean, 'three'? I recall an extra body in bed with us last night." He ran an appreciative gaze down Richie's body. "You know, you're a very flexible young man."

Richie blushed a deep red and stammered, "But- but-"

"Don't be so modest, Rich. You certainly were a fast learner," Methos purred as he pinched Richie's ass.

Richie jumped about a mile. "Me-Methos. What're you..."

Methos snaked his arms around Richie's waist. "Can't I wish you a good morning?" he asked as he kissed the side of Richie's neck.

Richie jerked out of Methos' arms and landed on the floor. "No  _way_ man. No way!"

"Don't tell me you're going to deny it too!" Methos wailed as he looked to MacLeod. "Tell him, Duncan. Remind him of the passion we shared," he pleaded.

MacLeod turned a dark red and stammered, "Methos, I canna remember anything! I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry. You obviously don't mean it," Methos snapped as tears welled in his eyes.

They all turned as they felt a buzz, and Methos sighed. Looked like fun time was over.

The door slammed with a force that shook the entire building. "MMMEEEEEEETTHOOOSSSS!"

"Amanda's back," Methos observed calmly.

Amanda stomped into the bedroom, jabbing her finger into Methos' chest. "How  _dare_ you! I have  _never_ , in all my  _life_ , treated anyone so terribly!"

"Amanda, what did he do?" Duncan asked.

"What'd I do?" Methos asked innocently. He was enjoying himself immensely.

Amanda's face was flushed a bright purple. She was shaking with anger as she snarled, "You know what you did, you slimy, filthy... "

"Amanda, what did he do?" Duncan repeated, louder.

She whirled to face MacLeod, her eyes dark with embarrassment. "He made me think we slept together last night, that's what!"

Dawning clarity registered on Duncan and Richie's faces at the same moment. All three Immortals turned to look at the innocently-smiling Methos simultaneously.

"You bastard!" MacLeod snarled.

"You fink!" Richie added.

Amanda's oath was in a language neither Duncan or Richie knew, but by the tone of her voice, it sounded like a good one. Methos raised an eyebrow at her, then applauded. "Nice one. Haven't heard that in centuries." Methos' smile widened as his gaze shifted from Amanda to Richie, then Duncan. He started chuckling softly, then it grew to uncontrollable laughter. Within seconds, he was holding his sides while tears slid down his face.

He gasped for breath as he wheezed, "I warned you, didn't I? I  _said_ I'd get even, and now I have. You should see your faces!"

"You son of a bitch!" MacLeod spluttered. "How could you? We didn't know...that is, you made us...I mean..."

Panting, Methos tried to regain his composure. "Direct and to the point. Always could charm the ladies with that one, MacLeod."

"Methos, I can't believe you did this!"

All the humor fled Methos' gaze as he turned to MacLeod. "Never try to outsmart a five thousand year old man, MacLeod. You'll lose every time."

"What're you talking about?" Duncan asked nonchalantly.

Methos' hands went to his hips as he advanced on MacLeod. "Does New Year's ring a bell? No?" He swiveled to glare at Amanda. "What about a certain red spandex dress," he turned to Richie, "with matching accessories?" All three paled in the face of Methos' anger. "I see you do remember." He suddenly smiled. Viciously. "Did you ever get your dress back into it's original shape, Amanda?"

Amanda fumed, "That's not funny, Methos! I paid good money for that dress!"

Methos' laugh bubbled up before he could stop it. "I'm sooooo sorry."

"I can't believe we can't remember. I only had a few beers," Richie complained.

"Yeah, I didn't have any alcohol last night," Amanda replied suspiciously.

"I drugged the cider," Methos answered matter-of-factly.

"You  _drugged_ us?" Duncan howled.

"Easy, Highlander," Methos soothed. "It's not like it did any permanent damage. I needed to be sure you'd be asleep while I set things up."

"Set things up?" Richie asked weakly.

"While you were asleep this morning, I installed a little something." He went to the cabinet across from MacLeod's bed and opened it to reveal a video camera. "Surprise, you're on Candid Camera."'

"Not funny, Methos," MacLeod snarled.

"Not meant to be, MacLeod," he replied as he removed a videocassette and held it up. "Insurance. And don't try anything stupid," he warned as he saw Amanda's eyes locked onto the tape. "This is just the master copy. I had this morning's activities beamed to three remote tv/vcrs, just in case." He smiled evilly. "Play any tricks on me  _ever_ again, and this gets played at  _Joe's_ during the Super Bowl. Rather entertaining half time, wouldn't you say?"

Amanda spat, "You wouldn't dare."

His eyes narrowed. "Care to try me?" The two elder Immortals stared at each other in a silent battle of wills.

MacLeod ended it by tugging on Amanda's arm. She fixed her glare on him, but he whispered frantically to her. Their subdued fight went on for a minute, then Amanda crossed her arms and turned her back to MacLeod with a curt, "Fine."

MacLeod smiled weakly at Methos. "Have a nice life, Methos."

"Thank you, MacLeod. I think I will. Now, if you will excuse me, I promised Joe I'd take him to the bar. He's still a bit sore from falling asleep on the couch." He quickly stuffed his legs into his jeans, then pulled on his sweater. He was aware of three sets of glaring eyes shooting daggers into his heart, but he blissfully ignored them.

"Later," he waved cheerfully as he gathered the rest of his belongings. He packed what was left of his home brew in a bag and shuffled into his coat. He was on his way to the door when he snapped his fingers. "Where are my manners?" He grinned smugly as he poked his head back into the bedroom. "Great party, MacLeod. Can't wait for the next one."

The end.


End file.
